Playlist
by HughloverX
Summary: I made a playlist of Joker songs and now have written stories to go with all of them.
1. One of My Turns

This is something that has been going through my mind (and ears) as of late. I made a playlist of what I felt were "Joker songs" and started thinking up a story. Some of these will be interconnected as a definate storyline while others are there as a feel for the character. There is a reason for the order, but you'll have to wait and see that. I'll update when I can but life is busy. I am trying to keep this on the border between Nolan's _Dark Knight_, Moore's _The Killing Joke_, and the upcoming Azzarello graphic novel _The Joker_ and the Joker of the comics and animated series all in one.

"One of my Turns" is by Pink Floyd. I don't own it or Batman.

* * *

The phone dangled on the chord; hanging from the table. Vaguely the dial tone could be heard over the static of the television. The girl came home looking around the room while he sat in the recliner staring at the snow of the television like it was telling him something. Perhaps to shoot Regan? That made him smile. Only someone who was crazy would do something like that and he was not crazy.

Everything in his mind was white and void. The sounds from the girl were barely heard in the din of his buzzing mind. It was only certain times that he could feel like this; absolutely lost and absolutely controlled. His eye twitched slightly and his sight faded. In the background of his mind he heard the girl ask him to take a bath with her. He didn't have time for that. All his time was spent on the mashed signals his brain was receiving from the outside stimuli and the thoughts running and bouncing in his skull like 500 people playing racket ball in one court alone.

Only until he felt a hand on his shoulder did he look up.

"Hello? Are you feeling okay?"

How could she ask something like that? He realized why. She didn't get it. Not one bit of it. Everything was the same in his world right then. There was no color in it. It was so droll. It was then he realized what color life was; the color of a dying man. Of course this was a dying man in the hospital. No blood. No color at all. Everything so…void.

She touched him again, this time to make him look into her eyes. Night after night they were together and yet he barely knew who the hell it was in front of him. Her hands were so cold to him right then and she was so serious.

Then he felt it. He felt cold inside. Cold and tight and dry. Something had to fix that. He was getting lost in it. Lost in the world of mediocrity and the mundane. No. He was better than that. Everything in him screamed to be better than the "civilized people" who ruled the world and never allowed the true artists, the true geniuses, a chance to excel in showing others the talents that they possess.

Launching himself from his chair he barely processed her falling back as he ran to the bedroom. Somehow, he knew how the plan would go without even making a plan. Chaos seemed the only way to get color into the world again and the first color he saw was a deep purple. His suitcase. Inside lay an axe; something he didn't remember putting in there. Walking back out with the axe dangling from his arm like the phone was on the table he grinned at her. She looked peachy now but still very very pale. The only color that stood out on her was her red lipstick.

"It's just one of my bad days sweetheart," he said in a voice that wasn't his own. It sounded far too high and nasally to fit right.

With that he swung the axe killing the snow that was on the television.

"Would you like to watch TV babe? Or get between the sheets now?"

She cried and ran into the kitchen. Jumping on his green recliner he soaked in all the colors rushing towards him. This was it. This was the thrill he wanted. All the colors moved through him as he leapt towards the kitchen, wielding the axe. It crashed into the white tile on the counter with a wonderfully musical SMASH! Everything around him was spinning and falling. Adrenaline started pumping in him and he swung the axe back and forth admiring every sound that it produced and every color that it came in contact with. Somehow he heard her calling someone. The cops? Who knew? It didn't matter though. Tossing the axe aside he barely registered the blood coming from a gash in his left cheek. Some debris must have caught him there and deep. Laughing he went over to the bathroom and looked at the color seeping through. It looked like her lipstick. Same shade and everything. His lower lip was also bleeding from a minor cut. Well, he couldn't have things uneven. As he chuckled to himself he took the mirror and let it make the same lovely sound everything else was making.

Taking a piece he stuck it in his mouth and pulled towards the right side. A perfect smile so that he wouldn't slip back into that void of nothing. No no. No. He loved colors too much now. He loved showing this side that felt so good in just doing things. Turning around he wanted to find the girl again and tell her. No one was there. Had he imagined her? Walking towards the window he realized that he hadn't.

"Why are you running away?"


	2. Life At Last

Next chapter. It's a little while after the first I believe. Again I don't own Batman. The song that inspired it is "Life at Last" from the movie "Phantom of the Paradise".

* * *

He felt more alive than ever before. It didn't matter what had happened to that puny scared man before because he was gone now. Whatever was living inside of him before had finally broken free and shown him that the world around him was for the taking. All he needed was to see that people fed him this power.

Life at last! Salutations from the other side.

Everyone in this filthy city hated everyone else and themselves even more than that. So with this in mind, wasn't he just a show of how the city was? He was a creation of Gotham. Did they realize what they drove a person to do?

Looking down at the blood pooling around him, the man just raised an eyebrow, licked his lips and then left. He was crime and chaos. That was practically Gotham wasn't it?

Skipping to the meeting place of a well known gang he pushed his way in, dragging along the large doorman with him. Yes, now that he was this criminal with scars he could conquer anyone. Now for the entrance.

Kicking the door open he pushed the other man to the ground. He licked his own scars and pulled out a knife. His foot moved to pin down the man as everyone around him stared.

"Sit and listen while the fuN begins-uh," he said with a chuckle. "Now gentle-MeN, I have a proposi-tion for you. I want Gotham to see what they can push a guy like me…to do."

One of the morons there disagreed with him. That just wouldn't do. Leaning down he pushed his knife threw the pinned man's cheek.

"This! This is the only way for a man to SMILE in this city anymore," he growled as blood squirted onto his face and hands, covering his fingers, scars and lips with the ruby drops.. Everyone looked on in horror. He continued, "This is the easy parT. This isn't for the queasy or the weak of heart childreN. Leave-uh…now if you aren't interesteD-uh. If you are though…" With that he drew out a wad of cash. "The pay off is…rewarding."

The money didn't matter but it was the only way to get any loyalty in this city. Tossing it on the table he let the ones pick up the bills before any blood got into them. What a wonderful way to show the evil of the world! As a man lay bleeding out of his face, drowning in his blood, the people of this world picked up cash sooner than they would pick up their fellow man. It made him laugh.

Moving away from the gurgling man on the ground he took his seat at the head of the table. Once there he pushed his hair from his face and licked the sides of his cheek. Leaning over the table he grew bored with watching the men count their money and then look towards him for orders. All men. No women. He would have to change that. Wouldn't it be more fun to have a little Hench girl or something?

"Now…if any of you try to leave this little…organization, you'll end up like our pal down there," he stated while flicking his knife towards the man on the floor. "Any questions?"

He didn't really want any questions from them. Already he was planning for the next crime, the next show. These men weren't going to satisfy his lust for blood and attention. He had a message to get across.

One man decided to interrupt his thoughts with, "Who's this joker that thinks he-." Before he could have his question out, he fell to the floor with a knife sticking from his chest.

"Oh…there are no questions in this show. Joker's the star of this production."

The others gathered quietly not saying a word as the mesh of howls from the injured grew around them. They were amongst greatness now and unable to escape his power.


	3. Straight to Video

Okay so this one was made after reading the new graphic novel "The Joker" by Brian Azzarello. Awesome. Crazy Harley and Joker stuff though.

Don't own Joker. This was inspired by "Straight to Video" by Mindless Self Indulgence.

* * *

Walking back and forth in the old warehouse, he could feel the tingling sensation of excitement bursting inside of him. It was time to see if these people could survive their first excursion with the Joker. For some reason it was difficult for these peons to keep themselves alive long enough to get out of the heist and have a good laugh. Thus far, the only one that could was the Joker himself. This time was different though. He wanted to see how one specific person would fair-his shrink

"All aboard," the clown said when a van driven by a man in a rubber clown mask pulled up. "Hit the road."

It was bullshit to have to continue knocking off mob bosses, but such was the life of a villain outside of the mob. Everyone had to vie for power in this city. However, the Joker was more theatrical, which gave him his claim to fame. He was original. His wild grin extended all the way from his mouth, across his cheeks and up towards his ears. That was his poker face now-a big SMILE!

They pulled up to what seemed to be a club in lower Gotham, but everyone who lived in the city knew that the Italian club on Avenue R next to the porn shop was mob territory. Looking over to the blonde he chuckled. She seemed out of her element until she saw his face. That made her light up like a rocket. It was almost sad that she would probably not survive because she seemed to honestly care about the billion.

"Little darling welcome to the show," he cooed while placing a purple-gloved hand on her cheek.

Getting out of the van he let the men walk off around the building as he had told them to, as he and his Harley walked through the front door. Before they were fully inside, every person turned and went wide-eyed at seeing the man in the purple suite.

"Hidey-ho!" the Clown Prince said with a smile before sitting across from the large Italian man.

The man looked from the clown to his female counterpart. This didn't seem like something that would go well unless he got the upper hand sooner rather than later. There was no solution for the clown except to kill him-if that was even possible. As they sat together chatting, the man behind the plate of meatballs tried to buy time for his men to get their weapons by striking up a deal.

"Women shouldn't concern themselves with business like this. You two do make quite a pair Joker, but women in here only dance. They don't stick around here where business goes on. You understand?" the Italian said while motioning towards the half nude dancers with a fork as a man came next to him holding a large semiautomatic.

Shrugging the man in make-up made a dismissive gesture and said, "Well, go on Harleykins."

He smiled at the face that she left to join the other women without battle. His mind wasn't on the mobster anymore, but to Harley. She was the show now as she started to perform, every so often looking at the only audience she wanted. The Joker admitted to himself that he never noticed that she was so amazing in body and as a henchwoman. She did as he said and didn't do anything stupid. Also she was there to talk to and have a bit of fun with; something that the others didn't offer.

A man walked in and stared at the blonde dancing with her shirt undone. Well that wouldn't do. She was his little toy. Besides, having the man in front of him yammer on and on about nothing was no fun. He came there for a reason and he would just stop playing with his prey.

Jumping over the table with a blade in hand he suddenly felt the wonderful warmth of fresh blood spray into his face. At that he heard his men come in. Sounds of chaos surrounded him as the lights danced around the room. The mobster with the semiautomatic fell dead before him with the gun still smoking in his hands. Idly he wondered if Harley had the smarts to get down before she got herself killed.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it finished and the fun was gone. Well that just wouldn't do. The clown had a gun with some bullets in it and some people still standing. It didn't matter whose people they were, they were still standing. After this he would hit the road before Gordan and his men showed up.

"Here we go," he whispered before firing at the mass of standing men.

His laughter filled the room more than the gunfire could. Blood splattered against the walls and took the place of air. It covered the problems of the heist. When there were no bullets left he went about spreading his calling card as well as grins to the groaning or the dead. Pushing over a table he noticed blonde hair covered in blood. Harley. She moved to his surprise. Her blue eyes looked up at him for acceptance. He never did notice how amazing this little girl was to him.

"Puddin'!" she cried as she leapt at him, winding her arms around his neck.

Scowling he didn't like this. She would worry him if she became this suffocating. The Joker was on his own without the others of the human race. Harley was quite a lucky hench girl that he had no more bullets to take her life for that annoying pet name. Instead, he pushed her off so that she fell back to the floor as he stood. He was the ruler here.

Looking down he found her not a beautiful as before. Taking steps towards the door, but turned back. Turning his head he wanted her to follow like a puppy she was. She'd live for today. It was the first test of many that the Joker would throw at her. The payoff for surviving them though was the immortality that the Joker's image gave and perhaps even the Joker himself. At least that was what she told herself.


End file.
